


angels might be damned

by smoll_jane



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Feels, Background Relationships, Clubbing, First Kiss, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Junhui | Jun - Freeform, Lee Seokmin/Xu Minghao | The8, M/M, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24981406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoll_jane/pseuds/smoll_jane
Summary: They say all good boys go to Heaven, but bad boys bring Heaven to you.☼Jihoon, too focused on his afterlife, never really lived. And maybe, Mingyu brings him a taste of this Heaven he wishes for so much.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47
Collections: You Made My Summer Fest





	angels might be damned

He can't recall the first time he heard this litany, for sure. But what he knows is his life has been built on it. Strong pillars made of "Give your best", walls lined with "We believe in you", ground covered in "Don't deceive us". Slaps on shoulder, expectations in stares.

Lee Jihoon spent his whole life by giving. Jihoon gives, gives, gives and never wants. And at some point, he knows he'll have to learn how to want as well. Because that's the rule : he must learn everything there is to learn, always run and never slow down, no time for any will. Make Mom and Dad proud, not disappoint. Make them smile, make it worth it.

But he knows Mom and Dad have nothing to do with the main reason he always runs. It was at the end of an extremely hot day. Cicadas screaming, sun hitting, light burning. He was eight and all he could think about was sleeping on the fresh floor, hidden from the sun for a moment. But Grandma called him and he knew deep inside of him that he had to obey. Grandma was old, all wrinkly and grey, rarely talked. She sat on her rocking chair all day, looking at some point on the skyline. But this specific day she called for eight-years-old Jihoon and he had to fight the heatwave to reach her in the living room. She caught his wrist and made him come close, really close. She then stared right into Jihoon's soul with her bloodshot pitch black eyes and whispered : "You have to be a good boy if you don't want to go to Hell, Jihoon. Because bad boys never reach Heaven." This was the first time he felt fear, deep down in him, along his spine, at the bottom of his belly.

They found Grandma asleep in her rocking chair the day after this. She never woke up and the traces of her fingers on Jihoon's wrist stayed for a week.

So, at the ripe old age of eight, Lee Jihoon worked. He worked without ever taking a break, he studied, he learnt everything there is to learn to be a good boy and go to Heaven. Because he's terrified of going to Hell. He can't go to Hell. He can't see the smiles on his parents face disappear and let the ground under his feet split in two and be swallowed to Hell. He can't witness the pride in his parents eyes disappear and see the stairs to Heaven be taken away from him.

At some point in his journey to be a good boy, Jihoon somehow convinced himself he had to be the best at everything he does. Because if he's not, how can he be so sure he's not already a bad boy? What better certitude than excellence is there to his conquest of Heaven? It took place in his mind, slowly but surely. During elementary school, he learnt how to learn. Studied how the other children did to be the bests. In high school, he used his new knowledge, quietly made his way to the top despite the hurdles littering the ground. And he ended up at university, finally. Being the best boy he could.

Sleep, coffee, study, sleep, and repeat. It is a miracle Jihoon made friends on his way because he would be all alone if they didn't pick him up from the floor at some point of his life. All his childhood years ; vanished. Youth ; skipped. And there he is, loyal visitor of the university's library, like every day, studying until it has to close and Wonwoo has to chase him away. He then somehow shuffles to his dorm on the campus and ends up lying on his bed. Sometimes, Junhui has enough time to force rice down his throat, sometimes he falls asleep on an empty stomach.

He settled for medecine after years of struggling to understand whether his life really has a goal or not. A goal that is not just an untold promise he made himself as a child. A goal that is not just being a good boy. He didn't really find an answer to his question, he doesn't really know why he chose these studies. After three years into it at university, he still sometimes finds himself wondering what went through his mind. Maybe it is the idea of helping people that made him think he would score on being a good person. If he couldn't find a real sense to all of this, at least he could try to upgrade his ultimate goal.

Lee Jihoon has always been admired. Considered crazy, of course, but mostly admired for his hard work. He knows it is not the admiration everyone would want, but he doesn't care. He doesn't really talk to anyone else than Junhui, Wonwoo and his teachers anyway. Classmates whispering as he walks to his seat, rumors about being the best student of the whole campus, pride in his teachers eyes. But apart of this, there are less enjoyable demonstrations of admiration. Jealousy. Spits on his way to class in the hallways, the door of his dorm tagged with insults. Once, a small group waited for him at the exit of the library. He had to stay in bed for ten days, rehashing on the missed classes with the taste of blood never leaving his mouth and a constant pain in the head and at the back of his spine. Fear, the day he came back.

But as for everything that's the slightest constant, people lost interest. Jihoon, in all his feat, was too regular to keep people focused on him. He became transparent, day after day, disappearing from everyone's mouth, from everyone's eyes. And he worked, he worked, worked and worked again. Because now that he was invisible, he had that more time to focus and learn. That more chance to get closer to Heaven. How better could he reach the top if no one could see him climbing the scale?

And then, then arrives Kim Mingyu. Out of nowhere, he ended up on the university’s benches. Kim Mingyu, too bright, too shining and nothing but transparent. Kim Mingyu is smart, popular, attracts people like sugar attracts bees. Kim Mingyu is honey, result of everyone's love. Smile white and eyes lively, he knows how to talk, how to act, how to move. Wise words, jokes that fall right in place, work flawless. Kim Mingyu goes to every party on the campus, knows everyone. Kim Mingyu is on everyone's lips, in everyone's eyes. And Kim Mingyu doesn't seem to work, Kim Mingyu has fun all the time but still perches himself right under Jihoon's score at the end of the semester.

Kim Mingyu is everything he hates. Can't be serious, plays everything lightly, is too loud. He is depravation. Kim Mingyu is taking the opposite path to Heaven. Kim Mingyu is flying right to Hell.

And Jihoon is terrified. Terrified that Kim Mingyu gets too close to him on the stairs, and that when he'll slip, Hell opening its gates for him, he'll pull on Jihoon's sleeve to make him fall instead and take his place at the top.

But Jihoon understood Kim Mingyu doesn't care about the top, that it was not a competition. That he just had to work even harder to put more distance between the both of them and make himself unreachable for the threat. He just needs to be the best and offer his parents smiles. Dig his path to Heaven and not care.

Until the day he can't not care. Because the path to Heaven, at some point, crosses the one to Hell.

~

He's always found it too hot in the library. Jihoon is struggling to take his scarf off and open his jacket when he sees Wonwoo at his desk, senses a smile lifting the corners of his lips. He doesn't notice the man leaving the counter when he reaches it, focusing on his friend.

"Hi Won, do you have the book I told you about?"

He wasn't expecting to see his friend's smile getting distorted like this, and he feels a sweat drop running down his temple. Wonwoo puts his glasses back in place and scratches his nape in embarrassment.

"Hum ... since you didn't tell me to already put it on your account, I had no choice than lending it to the guy that just left ... Sorry Jihoon-ah."

Conventions have always been a vague concept for him, and as soon as Wonwoo is done speaking, Jihoon turns back on his heels without saying goodbye and starts chasing after the said-guy, not to call him a thief. He needs this book. Hopefully, he quickly finds him out of the library, lighting up a cigarette, the book stuck under his arm. It's only when Jihoon is standing right in front of him, out of breath, that everything connects in his mind.

Not him.

"Excuse me, do you really need this book? I've got a paper due tomorrow and I absolutely need it for my conclusion." The words scratch his throat as a smirk stretches Kim Mingyu's lips. He stares at Jihoon, politely turns the head to exhlale his smoke before looking at him again.

"Yes I need it. But-" He guffaws when he sees Jihoon taking his wallet out. "Keep your money! I was about to tell you you can come to my place to study on it. So that I'll have it on hand when I do have to check it."

It is unusual. Jihoon needs his strict habitat, specific context to study. The library, the floor of his dorm at night. This is his recipe. Never at someone else's place. But he has no choice.

"Let's go."

He doesn't like the smile on Mingyu's face when he follows his steps. He is tall, walks fast. Jihoon isn't, he has to jog to keep the pace, and Mingyu doesn’t seem to care.

"You're that Lee Jihoon guy, right? The top of the list?"

Jihoon nods, struggles to put his scarf back on, doesn't see Mingyu smiling. He stopped caring about the direction his smoke would take at the second they started walking, and it all ends up in Jihoon's face. He takes a mask out of his pocket and puts it on, proceeding on shifting position to avoid the heady smoke.

"Do you live far away? I'm kind of in a hurry."

Mingyu chuckles, taps on the butt of his cigarette to get rid of the ashes and finally slows down for Jihoon to walk beside him.

"Don't worry, my flat is only a hundred of meters down the street."

They walk in silence for the rest of their way and Jihoon feels the cold infiltrating every area of uncovered skin it can find. Mingyu, him, wears a light coat that waves with his steps and a turtleneck. His ears are red, but this is the only sign of cold he lets appear. Yet Kim Mingyu rather looks like a summer person, Jihoon thinks, with his skin tanned and shining look. While he, although born in November, is freezing to death under his two sweaters and padded jacket. Not that he dislikes winter, just the cold stuff and the way it makes everything messy.

Mingyu lives in a modern apartment in a modern building. Some have privileges others don't have, Jihoon tells himself. Another reason of choosing medicine as his studies is he knows he'll find a good job that will allow him to repay his parents of all the money they spent on him. That's something really important for him, actually one of the only goal other than going to Heaven he has.

There are paintings on the plain white walls, the slightest of sun the sky can find today is directly filling in the giant living room and opened kitchen. It smells like tobacco and paint. Maybe some coffee, too. Mingyu takes his coat off and puts the book on a table. Without a look for Jihoon, he walks to a door that he opens, and through the slight gap Jihoon sees nothing but darkness and what looks like smoke.

"I'm back. There's huh ..." Mingyu turns back to look at Jihoon. "A classmate working here for a bit. I'm making coffee, you want some?", he asks. Jihoon somehow hears a mumbling and the door gets closed again. He comes back to the lobby and offers a smile way too bright for a stranger. "You want some too? Make yourself at home." As Jihoon nods, he starts preparing the beverage. Everything looks so neat around, Jihoon wouldn't imagine something like this for _the_ Kim Mingyu. "I think I've never talked to you before, but we share most of our classes," he says, filling up the kettle.

"I don't talk to many people." Jihoon’s voice sounds cracked, he doesn't like it. "I focus on studying."

He's not used to going to people's places. The last time he can remember, it was one of his mother's friends. She was so happy to introduce her prodigal son to her greedy friend that tried all she could to find a weakness to Jihoon. She didn't, but Jihoon listed them all in his mind for the three hours he spent kneeling on the old carpet. He was thirteen, at that time. The house smelt bad, old and faded flowers, the light was all brown and reddish, heavy curtains drawn in all the rooms. He didn't like this woman, at all. When they left, he asked his mother to never come back, and they never did. The list of his flaws forever stayed inked at the back of his mind since then.

But here, it feels different. Comfortable and clean. He's not embarrassed to take his jacket and scarf off, he doesn't feel out of place when he sits at the table and takes his laptop out of his bag. And Mingyu doesn't say anything to make him uncomfortable. The list keeps quiet.

The coffee tastes good, they start working in silence. Maybe is it because Jihoon needed to picture him as the devil, but Mingyu isn't exactly how he expected. He didn't have any expectation, to be clear, but out of all scenarios, he wouldn't imagine him being so studious. He held prejudices, too, because of his reputation. Things are slightly frightening when he realize maybe this boy isn't quite evil. Maybe he's normal. Maybe he has his rights on climbing the scale to Heaven under Jihoon.

When the room is getting darker, he hears a key unlocking the door from outside, and if Mingyu doesn't react, Jihoon, him, can't not see the sunray enter the room. If he said Mingyu is bright, the guy that just stepped in is a whole star in himself. He waves at Jihoon with a bright smile and crosses the room to reach the closed door from before.

"Seokmin," mumbles Mingyu, hidden behind his laptop. "Minghao's boyfriend."

"You live with a girl?" Asks Jihoon, too disturbed by the entrance to stay focused as he initially wanted.

Mingyu straightens up, his head suddenly popping from behind the computer, a brow arched. "No? Why would you say that?"

"Oh ..." Jihoon can already feel blood flowing to his face. "You said boyfriend so ..."

Mingyu leans in his chair, brows now furrowed, and he crosses his arms on his chest. "Minghao is a boy. And Seokmin is his boyfriend. You've never heard of people being gay Jihoon?" Jihoon quickly nods, trying his best not to end up crimson red. "Because if you've got a problem with it you can go, thank you."

He's surprised. The sudden coldness in Mingyu's voice was unexpected and he feels embarrassed. Jihoon fusses in his chair and lowers the head to look at his screen again, too ashamed to look Mingyu in the eyes. But Mingyu, him, doesn't seem ready to end it here, and after a moment of heavy silence, leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"So, you're straight huh?" It sounds like a reproach and blood keeps coming by waves in Jihoon's face.

"I don't know." He can't look up.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Mingyu leans even closer and closes Jihoon's laptop. "How old are you Jihoon?"

"Twenty-two." He doesn't even care about his appearance anymore. This conversation took an unexpected turn and he doesn't like it.

"You're twenty-two and you don't know who you're attracted to?" These are not reproaches anymore. Just genuine concerns. "You ... you already had a girlfriend, right? Or a boyfriend?"

Stronger than him, Jihoon chuckles. "No." Now, he looks up, sees Mingyu's distorted smile. Is there pity in his eyes? "It's a waste of time. I've got no time for that. I gotta focus on studying."

Mingyu leans back in his chair, mouth slowly falling open, eyes widened. "Woah ... You never have fun?" Jihoon shakes his head. "You drink?" A new shake. "You go out?" Again.

There's a long moment of silence. The list of his weaknesses comes back in a hurry, happy to be useful. Jihoon feels judged, naked under Mingyu's stare. There are reasons, though. It occurred to him to think about this kind of things, but it has always been brief, quickly swiped away with work. Yet he should have had plenty of occasions to think about it. Sleeping in an empty dorm when Jun disappears for a couple of nights with no explanation and comes back with bruises on the neck, Wonwoo smiling a bit too widely at his phone when it buzzes, and all this gross amount of people holding hands or making out in the hallways of uni. But still, he chose not to care, he decided long ago it wasn't worth it, it would only slow him down to care about it. It would burden him in his journey to Heaven.

The silence is long, too long. Mingyu stares and Jihoon hushes. Until Mingyu gets up and walks to Minghao's room.

Jihoon doesn't quite realize things get out of hands until he's sitting on a leather couch with a shot glass in the hand, music deafening him and rainbow lights blinding him. It's Thursday, he shouldn't be in a club. To be honest, he should never be in a club. Mingyu is at the bar, ordering other drinks, his tall silhouette slanted above the counter. He looks at ease, he looks like he has a place there. Jihoon doesn't. The lights flow on Mingyu like a cascade above a cliff, but they hurt Jihoon eyes like the sun when you leave your dorm after spending the night working on an essay. He tightens his glass, trying not to look at Minghao and Seokmin making out next to him. They're like opposite poles ; Seokmin, in all his brightness, shines on Minghao, pale, long and gracious. He looks a little gloomy, with Seokmin's arms around him, resembles a bit the moon in the way he shines.

"Here, take that." Mingyu tells him while handing him an other glass. He doesn't dislike the taste of alcohol. It's bitter, raspy in throat, but it's not bad.

He shouldn't like alcohol. He shouldn't be there, drinking. He shouldn't be with Kim Mingyu, sitting on the other side of the circle couch.

You have to be a good boy if you don't want to go to Hell, Jihoon. Because bad boys never reach Heaven.

Things go too fast. One shot, then two, then three, then a whole bottle of soju. The more he drinks, the less the lights hurt, the more he feels comfortable. And the more Mingyu smiles. The better he looks. At some point, Seokmin and Minghao disappear, and Mingyu comes closer to Jihoon. Oh. This close, despite everything being blurred around, Jihoon can see the smallest details of Mingyu. Smell them, too. The moles, one right above his jaw, the two tiny ones on the tip of his nose. The scent of coffee and cigarette, his breathing like soju. He could swear Mingyu's shampoo is mango. He smiles, still. When Jihoon realizes what he's doing, he puts some space between the two of them, Mingyu chuckles.

This is bad.

You have to be a good boy if you don't want to go to Hell, Jihoon. Because bad boys never reach Heaven.

"I won't eat you, you know." Mingyu smiles. He never stops smiling. Jihoon somehow smiles, trying to hide the storm blooming inside of him. "Wanna dance?"

Swooch. The tornado bursts in with no warning. And brings with it a wave of blood in Jihoon's face. This is not the same blushing as before, when they were still at Mingyu's place. This is a whole other genre. And he's not sure it's better.

Mingyu catches his hand and forces him to stand up to drag him on the dancefloor. It is crowded, by all these people he's not a part of, all these people that chose to have fun over working. But who's the one that's not normal in there? He never met anyone like him, anyone devoted to studies as much as him, anyone who doesn't have a real life. His life is in books, in papers due at dawn and stacked empty cups of coffee and the cold floor of his dorm and Junhui snoring on his bed. His life is a vicious circle of "you can do better" and "well done Jihoon you did better than expected" and thinking that means they don't see him how he wants to be seen, he has to work harder. His life is his parents smiling through the phone when they call to know what grades he got on the exam he prepared for so long and hearing the smiles disappear when they ask how he's doing and he says he's working hard. His life is a few words his dying grandmother bewitched him with. His life is ignoring his inner-self screaming, begging, imploring to stop, even for a second, to slow down and breath. His life is melancholy being his best friend, the only one that holds his hand.

"Hey, you okay?" Asks the one holding his hand. Jihoon looks up to Mingyu. He can feel the tears in his eyes but he doesn't care. And Mingyu doesn't seem to do either.

Jihoon startles when Mingyu takes his hand back. Don't let go of it, he wants to say, he wants to beg. But Mingyu doesn't notice anything and starts dancing, in his natural element, as a part of the decor. His hand feels cold, he hurriedly dives it in his pocket. It's hot in there, Jihoon feels like suffocating. When Mingyu sees he's not dancing, he takes both of his hands again with a smile, and tries to set a rhythm. Jihoon doesn't suffocate anymore, the music isn't as loud as before. He’s terrified by the way everything changes when his hands are held. And there is Mingyu's smile, still, never leaving. He didn't know he could dance. Didn't know he could feel comfortable in such a place. Didn't know he could forget everything for a couple of hours.

Didn't know he could feel attracted to the devil. But it's easy to get confused, Mingyu looks like nothing but a devil, he's nothing of what Jihoon pictured him. Mingyu's palms are hot and soft, firm and delicate, his smile is bright and warming, his eyes are fond and good, his skin reflects red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple lights like a cat sunbathing on a fluffy blanket. Mingyu is the devil disguised as an angel.

And Jihoon wants to act naively, just for once. He wants to stop being a good boy, even for a minute.

He can't tell what is leading him, what goes through his mind when he pulls on Mingyu's hand to make him lean forward. His eyes are slightly widened before Jihoon closes his to pull him in a kiss. It's short, dry. Not really what he expected when Mingyu breaks apart and Jihoon opens his eyes again. Mingyu lets go of his hands, brows furrowed.

"You're drunk Jihoon. I don't think you want that."

All the noise around comes back in a storm, he barely hears Mingyu talking. He doesn't deny.

"I want to go home. Can we go back to your place? I need to get my stuff."

Mingyu nods, slightly shoves him by the shoulder when he goes back to the couch to take his jacket.

They walk in silence in the cold night air. The streets are empty, Mingyu walks fast and lets the smoke of his cigarette end up right in Jihoon’s face. He doesn't care if Jihoon struggles to follow, never looks back. He didn't think he'd upset him, didn't want to. Far from it. Actually, despite the freezing atmosphere shrouding him, there is a boiling storm ravaging everything in him. What did he do?

When they finally get to the apartment, it has nothing to do with the comforting place it was at day. It's all dark now, looks grim with long shadows stretching on the floor and the large empty living room.

"There. Take what you need."

It's blinding when Mingyu turns the light on, but maybe what's even more blinding is his tone, devoid of any kind of sympathy of any sort. So, Jihoon takes all his stuff while Mingyu stands in the doorway, keeping the door open leaning on it, arms crossed on his chest. When Jihoon is ready to leave, feeling more ashamed than ever, Mingyu blocks his way with a hand reaching the other side of the doorframe.

"You never noticed, right?" Mingyu's voice slightly cracks on the last word, he finally looks at Jihoon.

"What do you mean?" There is disappointment in his eyes. So much disappointment. Bitterness?

Mingyu lets his arm fall along his side and sighs, closing his eyes. Jihoon feels out of place, lost in the dark despite the blinding lights.

"You're so focused on your work Jihoon, it's scary. You never noticed me, did you?"

It would feel weird to ask him what he means again, Jihoon knows it. And he feels like a single word from him would trigger the tiny amount of madness he sees in Mingyu's eyes right now. He's scared of what it is. Decides to hush. When he's about to leave, Mingyu puts a hand on his shoulder.

"You need to live, for Heaven’s sake. Gift that to yourself, please. Live."

Live. For Heaven’s sake.

Jihoon stares one last time at Mingyu, helpless, and he leaves, he runs away without telling Mingyu he's not drunk and he wanted to kiss him. And without telling him he has no idea of what he didn't notice but he's sorry.

The streets are even colder now. He keeps seeing Mingyu's gaze, he keeps hearing his words. Jihoon walks fast, he wants to get rid of this, he wants to forget this night, he wants to forget Kim Mingyu. Because all of this, all he did, all he thought, it was bad. So bad. He doesn't want to think about the fact he could have lost his place in Heaven for a few events. 

In their dorm, Junhui is still playing games on his phone, lying on his bed when Jihoon enters. But as soon as he does, Junhui seats so abruptly it seems he got electrocuted, 

"Where were you? You okay? I called Wonwoo he said you weren't at the library, you left early to follow a stranger. What did he do to you?"

Jihoon is standing in the middle of the room, tightening the sleeves of his jacket. He's unable to say anything. Junhui stands up to approach him, worries in his eyes. 

"Are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost ..."

Jihoon shakes his head and makes his way to his bed. He can't tell Junhui what happened tonight. He can't rehash it, he wants to erase Mingyu's face from his mind. Jihoon keeps hushing and starts taking his clothes off. It's late and his paper still isn't done. 

"I gotta work."

Junhui doesn't ask anything more, but Jihoon senses him staring at him for an hour before he falls asleep. And Jihoon doesn't work. He stares at his screen for one hour, then two, then three. The streetlights are long turned off outside of his window when he puts an end at his essay. It's the worst thing he's ever written, but how could he write something good when he doesn't have the right book? He's lying to himself. The book is not the problem. The problem is Kim Mingyu and what he now understands was sadness in his eyes. 

~

It goes on for a week. He sees Mingyu everywhere. Not only when he closes his eyes, but in real life too. Always smiling brightly while chatting with people in the hallways, at the back of the auditorium during their shared sociology class. Mingyu never looks at him. And everytime he ignores him, Jihoon sees a bit clearer what happened at Mingyu's place. Mingyu was wounded, that was not disappointment in his eyes, that was pain. 

And still, the question mark remains in the air. Why? 

It takes a week for Junhui to confront Jihoon to what happened. Because he hasn't gone to the library for the last three days and is eating with Junhui and Wonwoo when he comes over with Chinese food. Which is nothing but usual, and Junhui is the best placed to know the unusual means something is wrong with Jihoon. And Jihoon is tired, he's tired of saying everything’s fine, he doesn't want to fight and lie. 

God knows why, but he starts by telling Wonwoo and Junhui the story of his grandmother and all the stuff about Heaven. He never told anyone. Why? Maybe he was scared, scared that her ghost would come back and haunt him, tell him he failed and he'd never reach Heaven. And he feels ridiculous when he tells his friends. 

"And ... that's why you've been studying so hard for your whole life?" Wonwoo asks, the first one to dare and break the silence that settled after Jihoon's explanations. There is no judgment nor mockery in his voice as Jihoon thought there would be. 

"I guess so ...," he says, stirring his Mapo tofu, too embarrassed to look up. 

"But," starts Junhui after gulping down a spoon of rice. "That doesn't explain your sudden change of behavior. Something happened the other day, right?"

Jihoon nods. He senses Junhui and Wonwoo sharing a confused look, and no one talks. He knows he should explain. He should talk about his questions. But he's scared of what will happen if he does. He's scared of the change of direction his path could take. Softly, Wonwoo reaches for his arm to squeeze it across the table. 

"The guy that took the book ... it was Kim Mingyu, right?"

Again, Jihoon nods. He knows he should look at his friends. He does when he hears Junhui choking on the piece of chicken he was eating and realizes his eyes are wide open. 

"And you didn't tell me? Wonwoo!"

Wonwoo's cheeks tint with pink as he lowers the head and takes his hand back from Jihoon’s arm. Junhui pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Before they start arguing, Jihoon decides it's time. Time to say everything, for better or worse. And if he regrets, then what? He already buries so much regrets deep down in him, one more won't kill him. 

"I ... We went out. And I kissed him. I mean ... I tried." At this point, Junhui is ready to jump at him across the table, but Wonwoo holds him back, a hand on his own mouth. "When we went back to his place ... Hey! Don't make such a face, nothing happened. I took my stuff but then he told me something ... weird." Junhui sits back in place and Wonwoo pushes his glasses back in place, listening carefully. "He asked me if I noticed ... him. Because I was always studying. And then he asked me to live. And ... he looked so sad, I don't understand why." 

Junhui's mouth falls open, but now that Jihoon's done talking, nothing comes out. It feels weird to talk about this. When he came back that night, Jihoon swore to himself that he would never talk about it, because maybe, just maybe, if he kept it to himself, then no one up there would notice and he could still go to Heaven. 

And now it's out, and he feels the sky falling on his shoulders. 

"Jihoon, I have to tell you something," starts Junhui. His tone throws a shiver at the bottom of Jihoon's spine. Wonwoo's terrified look, too. "Actually I know Mingyu better than you think, he’s kind of a friend of mine. And ... I know some things about ... his feelings."

Before he can go on, Wonwoo shuts Junhui's mouth with his hand and leans on the table. 

"Jihoon. What you have to tell us is did you really want to kiss him? Like ... not as a joke, not as a test? Is that the reason you've been so weird these past days?"

He feels trapped, as if the truth had been kept away from him for all this time. And everything collapses in his mind. All the pieces interlock and he understands, finally. What he thought was wrong before, what he thought was bad, now that he knows the truth, it doesn't. This feels wrong. Finally knowing the truth. All the thoughts that collapsed a second ago, they're now connecting together, they're screaming something like the neon lights of a club. 

Jihoon stands up under Wonwoo and Junhui's confused stares. 

"I have to go." He doesn't even bother to take his coat and walks straight to the door. Before leaving, he turns to his friends. "We'll have to talk about why you hid it later." His eyes unintentionally fall on something. Junhui and Wonwoo's hands under the table. His lips automatically stretch in a smile and he points at them. "And about that too."

The way to Mingyu's place feels endless, as much as the strong freezing wind feels like it's cutting his skin when he runs against it. He's out of breath when he finally ends up in front of the big white door. He's about to knock before a small voice whispers in his head.

Grandma. No. Not now. Never again. Go away and let me live. 

He shuts the voice and decides to ring instead. Once, twice, thrice. His heart drops when he hears someone on the other side of the door. It's instinctive when he closes his eyes and presses his eyelids so strong it hurts, but at least he can't see the look on Mingyu's face when he opens the door. 

"Mingyu I wasn't drunk. I wanted it.”

“Well maybe you should tell him." It isn't Mingyu's voice and it makes Jihoon's eyes snap open. He sighs at Minghao's face, his heart loosing the track of its beating. "Make yourself home, he's in his room." And Minghao disappears.

The lights are turned off in the living room, and Jihoon doesn't know the place well enough to walk straight to Mingyu's room. Especially considering his heart playing with fire in his ribcage. He's been bold enough to say it once, but he knows for sure it won't be this easy the second time. He stumbles, bumps into pieces of furniture, but finally, finally he reaches the door. He can hear Mingyu humming to an unknown song on the other side and it makes Jihoon flinch. He didn't realize it was so serious. He missed the soft sound of Mingyu's voice. He doesn't know how it's possible, since they only spent time together once, but he's definitely more implicated than he thought. 

Should he knock? At this point, he doesn't know if he's capable of opening the door. The cold he felt outside is manifesting itself with burns on his cheeks and a feeling of suffocation. He never felt this way before. He keeps a hand on the knob, breathing deeply, eyes close. 

"You know," Minghao's voice makes him startle and he has to hold back a scream. He's still standing in the dark, at the other side of the room. "We don't have magic doors, they don't open themselves." Jihoon lets out a long sigh, praying for his heart to not stop beating. But then, the flashlights of a car in the streets lighten the room for a second and he sees an evil smile on Minghao's face, and his heart does stop beating. "Mingyu!"

At the second Jihoon understands what he just did, Minghao disappears in his room. Asshole. For the time of a blinking, Jihoon hesitates to run away, but he doesn't have the time to let his body decide, because the door opens with his hand still on the knob. Which, ironically makes him bump in Mingyu's chest. 

"Jihoon? What are you doing here?" There's no trace of the coldness from the other day, but Jihoon still doesn't dare to open his eyes. And he doesn't move either, still leaning against Mingyu. 

"I- I have something to tell you."

Miserable. That's the word. He sounds like the teenagers in the shows that were playing as a background sound when he was doing his homework in highschool. He always mocked them for being ridiculous. But who's ridiculous now? 

"Maybe you could start by looking at me."

Mingyu's voice slowly gets colder, devoid of the surprise from a few seconds ago. Jihoon puts some space between the two of them and finally looks up. The lights from outside are the only thing to light Mingyu's face, plunging the other half in the shadow, allowing only his eyes to glow when he looks at Jihoon. 

"Mingyu I- I wasn't drunk. I knew what I did."

Mingyu's face doesn't move at all, he has no reaction. Jihoon feels helpless. He had planned it until there, but now what? What does he say? What does he do? His brain is working a thousand miles an hour and he feels like it will soon overheat. 

"Mingyu. I understood. I got it. And I'm sorry. But also ... You have to know I never wanted anything in my whole life." 

Mingyu finally reacts, his brows slightly furrowing, head slightly tilting, slightly biting his bottom lip. 

"And now I do. I want something. Many things, to be honest. Apologize, to start with. I'm sorry, sorry that I've been blind for this whole time. And then ... I want you to know that what I did the other night wasn't a joke or anything. So, yes, I didn't really think of it, but I wanted it."

Jihoon startles when he hears two pairs of hands clapping behind him and he quickly turns around. Seokmin and Minghao are standing in the frame of Minghao’s bedroom door, and Jihoon can see Seokmin's white teeth despite the dark. 

"Fuck off!"

Jihoon startles again when Mingyu yells. And one more time when he puts a hand on his shoulder to make him turn to face him. He's tired of startling. He's not supposed to be in a haunted house, but yet, from what he got until now, it looks more like one than a normal apartment. But maybe, when Mingyu slightly leans forward, maybe it starts feeling like the place he felt so comfortable in the other day. Mingyu leans just enough for their faces to almost be aligned, and now Jihoon can see all the little details he lost himself in the contemplation of at the club. Flawless skin, the moles, the glow. His eyes, his starry eyes full of so much promises and dreams. They look like Heaven for a second. 

"Do you still want it, Jihoon?" Mingyu whispers, his voice a brush against Jihoon's skin. 

He could break the balance if he talked, he's even scared to do so if he moves, but he has to. Slowly, carefully, he nods, not looking away from Mingyu's eyes, scared that Heaven goes away. His hand shakes when he lifts it to Mingyu's cheek. His skin is as soft as it looks, melts in the touch, stretches like a cat sunbathing when Mingyu smiles and a dimple digs itself in his cheek. The balance doesn't move the slightest when Mingyu puts a hand on the back of Jihoon's head, thumb playing with his hair. 

This. This, right now, is Heaven. He doesn't care about the rest. 

Mingyu leans a bit closer, tilting his head, and when their lips meet, nothing else matters. Nothing around matters, nothing ever mattered, and nothing will ever matter. It feels great, warm and safe. Mingyu tastes like coffee and Tobacco covered with mint chewing-gum. 

Mingyu tastes like home, Mingyu tastes like Heaven. 

With their height difference, it is hard not to break the kiss when Mingyu drags Jihoon in his bedroom, leading him to the bed, and Jihoon immediately misses the contact. He's eager, lust growing in him when Mingyu sits on the mattress and gently pulls on his hand to make him do the same. 

It feels incredibly great to have Mingyu's lips against his, Mingyu's hands on him, Mingyu with him. Lee Jihoon, for the first time in his life, feels alive. Feelings growing in him, sensations running along his veins and nerves, body leading his mind instead of mind leading his body, heart racing and screaming not to stop. For the first time in his life, Jihoon slows down, takes things easy, one step at a time.

For the first time in his life, Lee Jihoon wants. 

~

Usually, when Jihoon notices the sky getting lighter and the first colors in the streets waking up, he would freak out. Because that would mean he hasn't slept all night and is late for an assignment. But today, today is different. 

Today, he feels weirdly happy to see a new day coming. He understood a lot of things in the span of a few hours. He should freak out because he understood he built his life on vain things, built his life on a lie, but not freaking out for anything is the best option. 

Maybe the Heaven of _after_ doesn't exist, or maybe he just won't reach it. But now he knows he can already get glimpses of it down here, well alive. He knows he doesn't have to be perfect to deserve good things, he knows it's okay to slow down, to allow yourself a break. 

When Mingyu yawns and stretches his arms to wrap one around Jihoon's chest and bring him closer to him, he knows he deserves Heaven too. 


End file.
